The Ripple Effect
by TheNightimeSky
Summary: How can one little lie affect so many lives? They might’ve liked to know they had a nephew; he might’ve liked to know who his father really was. But only one person holds the truth and this is her choice. POSTBOOK.
1. The Stirring Waters

**The Ripple Effect**

by TheNightimeSky

I own nothing. :)

* * *

**Year: 1966 **

_She was breathing heavily, as if the walk was labor-intensive. Her eyes looked panicky and nervous, as if she was bracing herself for a hit like some caged animal. He took her hand, a little firmly so she'd look up at him. She just jerked her head down farther, closing her eyes now as a dry sob escaped her lips. _

_"Sandy, what's wrong?" Soda asked softly, a little anxious. "You can tell me. Honest." _

_"I - " she started, "Nothing. Nothing." She looked up at him, her eyes soft and remorseful. _

_He stroked her cheek gently and chuckled, "God, I love you."_

_"Oh, God," she groaned, and she placed her face in her hands. "Oh, God no. Just ... just stop!" _

_"What?" He looked taken aback. A nasty feeling had entered his stomach - like acid. "But ... you don't ... ?" Shit. _

_She exhaled shakily, "I'm leaving, alright? _Okay?"

_"_What_ ... ?" Fear gripped him at first, not anger. Not yet. He needed her to stay; he'd make her stay. "No, you can't. Really, pl - "_

_"I'm pregnant." Her voice was dull, her eyes glassy. "And I'm moving to Florida. I ... yeah. There's nothing left to say." She bit her lip, refusing to look at him. _

_His eyebrows raised, and that feeling of dread loosened. "Sandy, I - I'll marry you, how 'bout that? Can I do that? Your parents will let you stay if ... "_

_"No," she whispered. "Please ... just stop." Her voice broke. _

_He put his arm around her, "I will. I'll do it; don't worry. We'll be fine. I'm not going to leave you or ... " Jesus Christ, a goddamn _kid. _He'd always said he'd marry her; but a kid at seventeen fucking years old? How the hell did it happen? " ... our baby." It was Sandy; at least it was Sandy._

_"No!" she snapped, pulling her hair, "It's - it's not _yours. _Oh, God. You had to make me say it, didn't you? Goddammit, _Goddammit_. Oh, God, I'm sorry." She wailed, this time words escaped her for good._

_He gulped. He was mad. Sure he was mad as hell - more at the bastard who'd knocked her up, though. She was sobbing, and that showed she was sorry ... God he loved her. It wouldn't fall apart. He didn't know if he loved her _that_ much anymore, but he needed her to stay until he did know. "I don't care, Sandy," he said firmly. "I'll marry you anyway. Please."_

_She looked at him, and though she was frowning, her eyes looked thankful. "I'll think about it."_

_The last time he saw her was at a local grocery market the next day. She had smiled shyly, and he felt elated, knowing it'd be OK._

_She left the next day, and he never saw her again._

_---_

**Year: 1985 **

_She came back. _

_Too late to bring a storybook ending to the Curtis family, but still quickly enough to end - _finally_ end - the life of their brother. _

_The year was 1985. Sodapop had been gone for nearly seventeen years now, and the gang had dispersed slowly - Two-Bit's perpetual optimism had always depended on his friends, and with them dead, close to it, or clawing their way outta fucking Tulsa for good, he'd pretty much glued the bottle to his hand, and they had let him. God they had actually _fucking _let their friend drink the pain away?_

_Steve had been a big question mystery until Ponyboy had overheard some gum-snapping broad chatting to her friend about DX needing a new mechanic since "Randle flew the coop". There wasn't a whole lot they could do about Steve; with Soda gone, there wasn't much keeping him around anyway. _

_After one of Pony's old friends from high school had passed the buck about Sandy being back "and maybe you should go talk to her now", both him and Darry wasted no time in getting some answers. _

_"God, I don't want to do this," Ponyboy mumbled to himself when they finally got there. We was looking at the old, rundown home that belonged to Sandy's parents. Darry looked at his younger brother in the passenger's seat and sighed._

_"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he told him._

_Pony laughed and ran his hands through his hair, "No, that's not the right answer." Darry cocked an eyebrow. "You're supposed to say, 'You'll regret this if you don't do it.' Well? Go on."_

_Darry parroted back what Pony said. _

_He chuckled and looked out at the cool night, "Better."_

_Darry placed his hand on the ignition keys, but didn't pull them out. "We don't have to do this; but ... if you don't come with me now, I won't do it either." _

_Pony looked at his older brother, a little surprised. Common ground, finally. "Alright, let's go." _

_They'd walked up to the house, rang the doorbell, and all too quickly were they confronted with an older shorter-haired Sandy. _

_She cocked her head curiously, "Can I help you gentlemen?" _

_"Um, uh - " Pony cleared his throat. "I'm Ponyboy Curtis; you may not remember me, but ... " She gasped._

_"Oh ... my gosh. How - what? Why are you here?" she asked softly, her eyes wide as saucers. _

_"We heard from one of your old friends - Mary Ashton - one of my old friends too, that you were ... visiting," Pony said slowly._

_"We'd like to know the entire story, Sandra," Darry told her firmly, in a cool tone. Pony almost felt bad for her; being interrogated by Darry was a fear all on its own. _

_"I - " she sighed, "I don't ... know ... "_

_"You don't know?" Pony cut her off quickly, "You mean, it was ... ?" His heart quickened a bit at the thought._

_"I - " She bit her lip, looking caged, "No. No. I _know_ it wasn't his. I just do. _Please," _she sighed. "_Please _just stop asking; I made a mistake, and I'm so sorry, but ... " She turned her head down, looking for all the world like she wanted to say something more. Her face showed the immense burden she was carrying, but Ponyboy nor Darry commented on it. _

_"Alright," Darry whispered, almost choking, "Thank-you. We'll leave now; Merry Christmas."_

_"Merry ... merry Christmas," Pony said slowly, still looking at her conflicted face, and he knew ... Growing up on the East Side, and you _know _how to lie ..._

_But you also know when you're being lied _to_. _

_And it tortured him. Always.__ Darry seemed to accept it; after all, everything he believed was either black and white, and Sandy had finally closed the door on Sodapop's life. Done and over for Darry._

_But not for Ponyboy. It crept up in his thoughts, echoed in his brain - a soft whispering question that sometimes left him crazy thinking over and over, "Was she lying, was she lying, wasshelying, oh God, what if she lied? What then?" _

_These thoughts ... the 'what ifs' of his life swirling around him, and mixing its thick, breathtaking iciness into him - _becoming him - _gripping him like a vice. Cold as death; cold enough to scare him shitless._

_Cold enough to kill him._

_---_

**Year: 1990 **

He went to go visit his brother the other day.

To Ponyboy, the "visits" he made to his brother's marking place was always lost on him; it honestly made him mad too. After all, Sodapop wasn't in that grave. He'd been blown to bits by the gooks back in Vietnam. He headed out in the year of '68. And isn't that how all great war stories started? It seemed unfair - and Ponyboy often bitterly thought so; especially this time of year - how other kids, just like his brother, could sit at home right now. They could get fat and old and yammer to their kids about "war stories." And why? Just a little bit of fucking luck.

Ponyboy and Darry hadn't even gotten Sodapop's things. With an ambush by the VC and about ten of the forty-five men - _boys - _making their way in the jungle, the situation normal had fucked up pretty quickly, taking Sodapop and the Point Man of his platoon - or so the lieutenant said. It wasn't that Pony didn't believe him; he did. But at the same time he wondered how hard it could've been to run back for the body, the _anything _of Soda, just to ease their pain.

"_Or at least give us _something_ to bury," _Pony thought dryly, letting a small smile twitch on his face.

There wasn't a lot they could get from what'd happened out there - after losing contact with the platoon, an SAR went out, and a week later came the rest of the platoon - glassy-eyed and war-hardened but _alive. _

"These things just happen," the sergeant had written to Pony and Darry, "I'm sorry."

He was angry. He was bitter. These things "didn't just happen", goddammit. It was because they were greasers - they always _always _got the shit end of the deal; they probably could've saved Soda. And Pony could see perfectly in his mind - a boy with a semi-Beatle haircut and expensive ski-jacket being pulled out of the dirt, while Soda laid there ... Because greasers will always be greasers, and Socs will always be Socs.

Ponyboy hadn't let Soda's death get to him; or so _he _thought. Before long, he started retracting from his friends - biting and snapping at anyone who asked what was wrong - he blamed the army, the gooks, even _Sodapop _for what had happened. It wasn't his fault, and yet his brother was dead and gone at nineteen years old. Laying under the earth of another country - of another goddamn _world - _where the people didn't speak English, or even live like them; _and they'd never know._

But Pony had gotten lucky - he had been hardened into working extra hard, and that got him through school. He met a girl with bright eyes but laughed like a hyena and somehow found himself falling in love with her beautiful imperfections. Two kids, three jobs, and one failed "Dog Trial" later, and here he was, in the cold two days after Christmas, finding himself at the graveyard.

He drew his scarf closer to his neck, struggled with the bulky coat, and finally settled there. He sighed.

"Daddy, why are we here?" Pony looked down suddenly, almost forgetting about who he'd brought with him. His daughter looked up at him with that burning, over-anxious curiosity, and Ponyboy chuckled.

"We're here ... " He trailed off, "to visit a friend." _An uncle. An uncle who'll never come over unexpectedly, or call me up asking what you want for Christmas ... an uncle who'll never have kids of his own, or a wife. An uncle who's just a dead kid. _

_"_Oh," Jeanne put in. She shuffled on her feet, and Pony couldn't help but notice how sweet and innocent she looked, parting her pink snow boot clad feet in the snow. She was frowning at them. "How long?"

"Just a little while longer, hon," Pony told her. He looked down at the grave. The _empty _grave. He didn't want to be here. He wasn't going to lie to himself, saying how this was in memory of Sodapop Patrick Curtis, Beloved _Brother and Son. _It was just a grave; an empty way to say he could still visit his brother. It was cold. It was dark. He should be getting over to Darry's soon to say his good-byes, and head back home. His son was shuffling over now too, a little more enthusiastically than Jeanne.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Patrick looked at Pony, trying to keep the impatient tone from his voice.

"We're visiting his _friend," _Jeanne snapped, poking her tongue out at Patrick. He glared and flicked her.

"I didn't ask _you," _he growled as Jeanne yelped.

"Daddy! Patrick hit me!"

"I did _not." _

_"_Guys, guys," Pony said wearily, "We'll go now, okay?" Both children nodded happily.

Patrick walked over to Pony and grabbed his hand. "Dad, are you okay?" His ten-year old son's face shone with wariness and reluctance, like he was just asking the queston to be polite, but didn't want to know the answer.

"_You left us nothing, Sodapop," _Pony thought, letting the loneliness overcome the guilt of his thoughts, "_There's nothing of you left, Pepsi-Cola, and _I _have to deal with that. You're gone forever, and took everything with you." _

And that thought is what made him the saddest; the undeniable, concrete fact that Sodapop Patrick Curtis was gone for good, and nothing ... nothing would ever change that.

Pony looked back; the cemetery sure was pretty at night.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

**Year: 1998**

_You could say a lot of things about Ponyboy - one of them was his over-active imagination, and his tendency to day dream. Sometimes when he found himself alone with his mind, he'd think about it. About the possibility of Sandy lying, and what Soda's kid was like._

_It was these thoughts that dominated his mind one cold December morning after a jog in the park when he was forty-six years old. _

_When what he really should've been thinking about was that swerving car coming his way._

* * *

Oh, yes. I was inspired to write this after reading "Brothers Together, Eternally" bycalla lilly rose; eh - just thought I'd put that in here somewhere.

Beta? Anyone? Just offer; I'm up to it from _anyone; _the next (and last) chapter's done. TSD will be updated when my laptop gets online again.

**Happy December 24th, my readers. Review, flame, critique - do what you must, and do it well.**


	2. The Even Current

**The Ripple Effect**

by TheNightimeSky

**I**own nothing related to S.E. Hinton's works, "The Outsiders", nor the information on genetics from TheTech[.]org

**Thank-you, **to my beta-reader _DarryHasAFutureAndI'mInIt. _You rock, hon.

* * *

**Year: 1984**

Jeffrey Delquino washed his face and glanced appraisingly in the mirror. He stroked his chin, and frowned a bit. There was something unsettling about that dimple in his chin, but he couldn't understand why.

He supposed he wasn't terrible looking, over all. If only he didn't have these thick glasses, which were shoved on his face at ten years old. And the braces slapped on his teeth at fourteen to sixteen. _And _the pubescent acne dotted across his cheeks until eighteen.

He shook his head, and decided to leave it for another day. He needed to meet up with Melanie in fifteen minutes for their celebratory dinner – she had gotten into her first choice, Oberlin – and though they were going to be hours away, they'd decided to try the long-distance relationship out. He grabbed his keys, and went to go pick up his girlfriend.

"Hello!" His girlfriend pecked his cheek lightly upon his arrival at the restaurant, still smiling cheerfully, "How was your day today?" With that, she looped her arm into the crook of his, and were led to a table in the restaurant.

"Oh, it was alright," he sighed, putting his face in his hands, "I'm still packing, though. I guess I'm just anxious, is all." He ran his fingers through his light brown hair.

She smiled teasingly, flashing her grin at him, "Oh, don't be silly; you'll be _fine_. At least you'll still be in New York!" she giggled. The grin melted off of her face at her boyfriend's downcast look. "Okay, what's wrong?"

"Oh … " He thought about it, "Nothing. Nothing**,**" he repeated, as if this would make it sound more convincing.

She rolled her eyes, "You can _tell_ me these things, honey."

"It's … " He pursed his lips, frowning, "I can't explain."

Sometimes he wished for a little more. In his lifetime, little had challenged him, and when it did, it never seemed … enough. To someone who had the _potential _to overcome life problems, shouldn't there be more of them?

"Well." He exhaled, "Do you ever … think life's _too _boring?"

"Too boring?" she echoed, looking bewildered. Her bright eyes shone with laughter and a little confusion. "This is the time of our lives, Jeff! It's not _boring." _

"No, I mean – " He cut himself off.

"_What I mean is, I've never had to fight to prove myself. I was never betrayed by a loved one, never given second best – everything _I _have is top-notch; I've never seen the ugly parts of the world. Maybe I _want _to spit back at the world for something; maybe it'll make me stronger. But if I have such wonderful, amazing things, shouldn't I be grateful? Or is it _too much? _I wish … I wish … "_

"I guess I just hope I can handle it," he told Melanie, and kissed her hand. "I love you."

She smiled, "I love you, too."

For the rest of the night, they just talked about schooling. Jeff gave his opinion on Melanie's college, expressing his distaste for such a liberal school, "but if it makes you happy.".

"I saw Mr. Morgan the other day – do you remember him?" She punctured a piece of salad with her fork, "I learned so much from him in Genetics that year." Jeff couldn't help but smile; ever since he had met her in sixth grade, Melanie had always been changing her mind about what she wanted to do with her life.

"I think that stuff is so fascinating," she continued, "God, I loved Mr. Morgan."

"Yeah, all about recessing and prominent traits – exciting," he laughed.

She pushed him, "Reces_sive_ and _dom_inant_, _smartass."

She continued to ramble on, and Jeff let her.

---

_Later that night, he had a dream. _

_He had been near the stove in his kitchen – but it wasn't _his _kitchen, it was rundown, and old, but still he knew … he _knew … _this was where he lived – and there were other people around, people his age. One of them took a piece of paper, and he knew that it was the letter from Columbia – the college he was accepted into. "No, don't do that," he said as it fell into an open flame. And that was the only way he could _go_ to Columbia, so he had to be a scientist instead … he took genetics – his teacher was Morgan, but he was younger, with eyes so light, they looked almost white … _

"_Is this your family?" Morgan pointed to his neighbors, and Jeff shook his head. "No, no, no" he kept echoing, even as Morgan wouldn't let the question go. "Answer the question, boy!"_

"_NO! They're _not," _he cried out, "What? I know my family; _I know my fucking family!"

"_I'm so sorry." He turned away from the board, and saw Melanie looking at him, her eyes rimmed red with tears, "I'm so sorry … "_

"_What?" he asked, "Why are you sorry? What's going on? I – "_

"_God, I'm sorry," she repeated. She seemed to be disappearing. _

"_No, wait! Come back! Melanie! COME BACK!" he yelled. And he was falling …_

He woke up in a cold sweat, and the sudden epiphany splattered into his brain, oozing its way to his conscious state of mind. With a sick, twisted feeling in his stomach, he realized why there was such an odd thing about his chin – it was a cleft chin. Which was _dominant. _

Neither of his parents had one.

Looking up on the Internet with shaking hands, and a sudden rush of adrenaline in his stomach, he couldn't help but try to keep that nervous, awed grin off of his face. "_You wanted _exciting, _Delquino." _

"_You'll often see that parents with __cleft__ chins tend to produce children with the same marking. __Cleft__-chinned parents may or may not pass along the trait to their children, and some children will be born with __cleft__ chins to parents without the trait."_

"Jesus Christ … " he whispered, stroking his chin.

"Jeffrey?" his mother's twinkling voice came out.

He yelped, "Jesus, you scared me!"

"Oh, I'm sorry sweetie," she told him softly, "Why are you up so late?"

"I, uh--"He cut off, and decided to drop the bomb, "This is going to sound weird, but Mom, am I adopted?"

The next thing Jeff knew, his mother was calling out for his father, and both of them were sitting him down, telling him "We-didn't-want-you-to-know-and-love-you-still-the-same-but-yes-you-are-adopted".

"Wow," he whispered in awe, "So … wow."

"Hmmm," his father said, "I hope this doesn't change anything, Jeffrey – your mother didn't even name you, that's how much you belong to us."

"Right," his mother piped in, "She just … dropped you off. Nothing else."

"Really?" he asked, discouraged, "Nothing?"

"Well, uh – no," his mother hiccuped, "She did hold you, and say something … It was, oh dear, what was it, Marty?"

His father cleared his throat, "I remember," he started in his gravelly voice, "She held you – pretty young thing she was, I felt so bad for her – and said, 'For his sake, I hope you don't look like him.' "

Jeff nodded. He was too in shock to think about it.

"What was her name?" he asked.

His parents both looked at each other, "Jeffrey … these things … aren't meant to be reversed," his mother told him gently, "You were born in the 60's – a time where a pregnant teenager was … shunned for doing such a thing. She wanted it to stay as confidential as possible; to give you a completely full life."

_Bullshit. _"Fine. You don't know – I just wanted – "

"Sandra," his father whispered. His mother glared at him. "What? Jeff has the _right _to know, honey. She was my cousin," he told Jeff, sighing, "She went to live with grandmother afterwards … but, well, I haven't seen her since."

"Alright," he sighed, "Fine."

He thought of what his real mother might've been like – he loved his mom, no doubt, but _still._. He was _adopted _for crying out loud. There was a whole other family out there …

"Come with me," his father whispered in his son's ear once his mother had left.

Jeff followed his father to his parents' room, and had a stack of documents slapped on his lap. Birth certificates, letters, notes … "What is this?"

"Your mother – er, biological mother – didn't leave you … _exactly." _His dad laughed.

"And .. you're giving this to me," Jeff started slowly, "because … ?"

His father said bluntly, "I knew that the time would come where you'd find out, one way or the other. And never knowing where you _come _from is … hard. I'm not dumb; I knew you'd want to know."

"Are you calling Mom dumb?" Jeff grinned wolfishly.

"Of course not. But I always just thought … if you ever wanted to know your um, real parents, that you'd … " His father trailed off, looking at the gray-green carpet now. Jeff sprang up suddenly and kissed his father on the head.

"This changes nothing," he said firmly, "I mean … I _do_ want to know, but..." He bit his lip and mumbled, "you'll always be my parents … I love you guys."

---

**Year: 1984**

That night, after she had put her seven-year old daughter to bed, she went downstairs to check her e-mail. Her boss was supposed to be posting her schedule for this week, and she needed to make sure she had Wednesday off to go to Macy's school play.

"Hey, Sandy, are you alright, hon?" Sandy turned her head to look at her husband. His dark eyes were surveying her over the book he was reading.

"I'm fine," she sighed, "Just exhausted." He chuckled before going back to the book.

When Andrew Harrison had married Sandra Marrow, it had raised many eyebrows, and called for much gossip. Not for what may've seemed like the obvious reasons – that Sandra was a very beautiful young lady, and Andrew had never been prided on much to do with physical appearance. The real issue was that Sandra was a poor floozy from the boondocks who had come to Florida to have her baby, and Andrew was a well-mannered, respected young man.

Sandy loved him – not only because he was kind, but he hadn't let the rumors and her reputation exceed her.

And even after Andy learned that Sandy occasionally kept in contact with her distant cousin, and seldom indulged herself into seeing her son's life, he was understanding.

"He's your child," he told her bluntly, "That's something hard to live without."

She didn't expect an e-mail tonight, however.

_Sandra – _

_Ellie and I told Jeff about you tonight. It was unplanned; he found out himself. He wants to know you – I know he does. And his father. I know it's a bad subject, but can you try and remember? There's a picture attached from his graduation. Please … make some connection to his father. _

_Wishing you well,_

_Marty_

Sandy could feel the bile rise in her throat, re-reading the letter.

And suddenly she felt the rising anger come to surface. Who were these people to let that poor boy know the truth? They broke the fucking agreement, and now Jeffrey had to deal with never knowing. It made her blood boil, how hard these people just made both of their lives.

There was only one thing to do, she thought, heart racing. Only one thing she could say. She'd have to lie. For the last time. This was going to end tonight; she wouldn't let her son always feel torn between these two worlds. It wasn't fair to him.

No, it was best if he never found her … or his father.

She opened the picture, and was blown away by his appearance. He was smiling, with a diploma in one hand, and his arm around a very pretty blonde girl.. It made her heart ache a little.

She could've cried, he looked so much like his daddy. His eyes were different; possibly hers, with that blue shade. But behind those glasses and that self-conscious smile, his name just echoed in her brain.

'_Soda, Soda, Soda …' _

Jeffrey's hair was that same dark-gold, that warm smile that accented his cheekbones, that lightly tanned skin – even the shape of his eyes reminded her of Sodapop.

"Oh. God," she moaned, "Goddamnit. _Why_?" she whispered, "Lord, I'm so sorry. I really am. I'm _sorry_ Jeffrey," she whispered.

'_Marty –_

_I'm so sorry. I don't know who his father is; I made a terrible mistake and I'm sorry – to you and to Jeffrey. Please … he doesn't need to know about me. You and Ellie are enough for him. I know that he feels that way, too. _

_Thank you … so much for everything._

_- Sandra_

---

**Year: 2000**

"Please, wait!"

Sandy kept walking briskly down the path in the wooded park. She tried to stay calm, and keep her joints from freezing up. _'Oh, God. They keep finding me. Why can't they just … ' _A soft hand clamped around her shoulder firmly. She looked back to the person in front of her. His face was hard-set and determined, while little wisps of dark-blond hair touched his tensed-up forehead. He had dark blue eyes, and she could catch a whiff of the sharp, redolent scent on his skin.

The young man sighed, and chuckled. "I thought you were going to get away. I'm er – sorry about the abrupt entrance."

Sandy shrewdly thought back to just fifteen minutes prior to this scene, where he had practically ambushed her at her second job – the local grocery – and started spluttering a stream of irrelevant sentences, leaving her both frightened and anxious to get away.

So he chased her, yelling the whole way. She was surprised he wasn't called over yet.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?"

Sandy turned to a tired-looking police officer with gray stubble coloring his cheeks. She turned to the young man who bit his lip, squirming a bit, and said, "Oh, yes. Everything is just fine."

The police officer turned to the boy, "And you, son?"

"Just dandy," he answered smartly, smiling at him. Sandy suppressed a chuckle, feeling a sudden pang of reminiscence – her mind recapturing a similar boy with the same bright grin.

"Alright – have a nice day, then." The officer nodded briskly, before turning away.

"Now …" the young man retorted curiously, "How he knew if you were _lying _or not is beyond me. He should've asked other witnesses what was going on – if I wasn't just another mad serial killer or not. Police officers." He shook his head, scoffing, "Always making my job difficult." She was curious; what _was _his job?

Sandy bit her lip now, feeling torn between her feelings for this boy. God, she loved him – and at the same time, she didn't even know him. "Are you … ?"

"Jeffrey Delquino," he told her, grasping her hand to shake. "And you're Sandy Marrow, uh … right?"

"Yes," she breathed, "Oh, my God. You look … " _So much like him. _God she wanted to let him know. She had to let someone know – she had lied for so long …

Jeffrey blinked, looking solemn. "I – I've waited a long time to meet you," he said sadly, "I've asked my parents time and time again, and they've told me all they know. It was hard, but now I'm here. Please- don't leave just yet." He turned to look at her fully now.

"Okay," she whispered, "What do you want to know?"

He grinned. "Everything."

---

**Year: 2001**

Jeffrey was looking down at the grave of his uncle. An uncle that he'd never know – an uncle … that was probably his last chance of ever understanding his father. For the past year, he had kept in contact with Sandy. She supplied enough information – with pictures, stories and memories to last him a while.

But these happy, glowing parts also had one major downfall – Sandy told him how Soda had died in Vietnam, not even before he was nineteen years old.

"There are things _I'll _never know," she had told him soon after he was leaving Florida upon their first meeting, "I loved your daddy – I really did, honey. Soda was something special. I – I want you to find someone; he'll probably know where to find him."

It seemed that there was always another piece of the puzzle, Jeffrey thought. He was given only a few names; the only one that didn't lead in a dead end was Ponyboy Curtis.

"He had two brothers," Sandy told him apologetically, "But … God, I can't remember the other one. Lord, the number of times Soda mentioned them, too … "

But, some things weren't meant to work out. Jeffrey realized this suddenly, as he gloomily kicked a pebble from the worn grass near the stone, _In Memory of Ponyboy Michael Curtis _with the mentioning of family, and a little excerpt to a poem that Jeffrey vaguely remembered from his school days.

Should he even try to look for this other uncle? It did say 'Beloved Brother' on the stone; it did say 'Father' and 'Husband'. There still was hope; there always would be someone out there for him to search for. But isn't that always the case?

No, he thought, smiling inwardly. He thought of his old, graying parents – people who took him in, and till the day he died, he'd call 'Mom' and 'Dad'. Nothing would change that; this … was just a speed bump in his life. Same with Melanie leaving him unexpectedly before their freshman year of college. Same as his old dog, Jackie, dying after a walk in the park led to a fatal car accident.

He wasn't lying to himself. He _was _expecting it to be relatively easy. He thought when he went to Pennsylvania – a good location, he had thought happily, he lived in Philly, not thirty minutes away from this uncle – he could almost _feel _the warm glow of a family reunited.

But this wasn't a story book – this was life. And Jeffrey Delquinowas just an unplanned pregnancy with a young, scared mother who only wanted for her son to live a full happy life, and made the rash decision that he shouldn't find his way back.

And she did.

"Hey, Uncle Ponyboy," Jeffrey said, noting the croak in his throat, "Um .. I guess you haven't been gone very long. I just, uh – wanted to say … " He shuffled his feet, feeling stupid, "Hi, I'm Jeff. And I'm your nephew. Y-yeah," he stuttered, feeling angry at the tears that prickled his eyes. He gulped, sighing at the gray sky – feeling the sadness that all humans feel, but also happiness for the strength that it brought.

"Just … just tell Sodapop that I said 'hi', alright? And don't blame Sandy for anything – I understand. I really do. And I think ..."

He paused for a moment, and then smiled, "I think he understands, too."

**THE END **

****EDIT: I realized that there was a major part I left out before, in saying that the information -- and idea -- of a boy finding out he was adopted in this sort of scenario ACTUALLY *sheepishly* isn't my idea. It came from _House M.D., _and I can't take credit for it. I hope it doesn't deteriorate at all from the story, though. **

**There will be an epilogue. **


End file.
